Konstantine
by Natsuki
Summary: A retelling of the last two chapters of the manga. Spoilers abound. Maron and Chiaki fluff, Fin and Access fluff.


***  
Konstantine  
  
***  
  
Two lovers once sat in the heavens, in one of the trees that were so  
beloved and so cursed by humanity, and explored the newfound knowledge  
of one another  
  
The fact that they were angels did not forbid them from this discovery  
of love, for they had once been mortal, and still knew the desire to be  
with another, to ward off loneliness with the presence of someone that  
was beloved. And God would not deny them that, for if His angels could  
not feel love, then how would they treat those who lived on the earth below?  
  
*  
  
"It will be dawn soon," Fin said, turning to face the hints of light,  
her face half in shadow. Access thought that he had never seen something  
more beautiful, or anything that had more meaning than that single picture.  
  
He drew her close, revelling in the sweet scent of her hair and in the  
fact that he could touch her, that he knew she loved him. She placed a  
hand on his cheek, fingertips cool, but leaving paths of warmth where  
they touched, and the look in her eyes -- love, mingled with sadness  
that he only partly understood -- made his heart fill with the wish to  
shield her from what would come in such a short time.  
  
Tangling his fingers in her hair, he kissed her, wanting to remember  
this night forever, wanting to remember everything about Fin and etch it  
in his memory. "I love you," he declared, and the words seemed  
inadequate, but they held meaning all the same.  
  
Her smile in return was achingly pure. There was no question of that  
now, whether she had been a fallen angel in the past or not, she was  
pure-hearted. And then she looked away, back at the pink staining the  
perfect bowl of Heaven's sky. "The trial will begin soon," she murmured.  
"And Maron's heart and strength will be tested..." She trailed off as  
she turned back to him, placing a slim finger upon his lips to stifle  
his objections. "As will mine, I fear."  
  
Kissing her fingertip before catching the hand in both of his, Access  
shook his head. "You have already been tested, Fin Fish. More than any  
of us. And you haven't been found wanting."  
  
"I pray that you are right."  
  
**  
  
There was an almost holy sort of quiet in the perfectly white bedroom.  
Two other lovers, their souls having loved for more generations than  
could be counted, but their bodies new in the sense of touch and feeling  
and sense, were curled together beneath the white covers, hearts beating  
in time as they clung to each other in dreams. The dawn brought the  
dawning of consciousness for both; soon enough, they opened their eyes  
to each other.  
  
Chiaki thought that he had never seen anything more beautiful than the  
sight that greeted him upon awakening; Maron's hair was touseled,  
framing her face in delicate curls, and her lips were reddened with the  
aftereffects of his kisses. But what was most telling for him was in the  
way that she was curled trustingly in the circle of his arms, the warmth  
of her body melding with his, and in the way that her eyes met his, full  
of love and trust. His Maron. And no-one could deny it.  
  
Maron woke to a sense that all had become right. There were no doubts in  
her heart, simply confidence and trust that she thought she'd lost long  
ago. And she was so warm. The realization of why that was struck her,  
and she opened her eyes to find Chiaki studying her with  
uncharacteristic solemnity. She smiled tentatively, and was rewarded by  
a softening of his blue eyes and a gentle kiss. "Good morning, Maron,"  
he said.  
  
"It is morning, isn't it?" she asked, a soft flutter of emotion in her  
heart. She would face the Devil today. But not yet, oh, not just yet.  
For now, she was with the person she loved, and she had the happiness  
she'd been seeking for so long. She ducked her head, resting it against  
his chest, and felt him bury his face in her hair. They remained like  
that, close to one another, for a long moment.  
  
Memories of the night before seemed to indicate that she should blush,  
but somehow she didn't feel that it was necessary; it had been their  
choice, and there was no void where her power lay to make her feel that  
it had been the wrong choice. If anything, there was more strength  
there, born from the purity of their emotions rather than the purity of  
their bodies.  
  
"Are you sure that you won't let me take your place?" Chiaki's voice was  
a comforting rumble from where Maron rested, giving her strength.  
  
"I am sure," she said, drawing away from him and giving him a resolute  
look. "I hold the last power. It's me that the Devil wants, not you, and  
this is my fight."  
  
"I'll be there, still." His tone brooked no argument, and Maron didn't  
plan to argue, anyway. "I won't let you do this alone."  
  
"I wouldn't have it any other way." She kissed him, sweet and tender,  
and full of promises for the future she would make sure happened, then  
slid out of his grasp, sitting up with a lack of self-consciousness that  
would have surprised here merely the day before. "We should get ready."  
  
She turned at a choking sound, and discovered that Chiaki was staring at  
her, his cheeks red and his eyes wide. Clearing her throat seemed to  
make it worse for a moment, and then he shook his head a little and nodded.  
  
For some reason, his blush made Maron feel happy. Desired and wanted,  
those emotions were new -- and she hoped that they would become  
familiar. As she dressed, she stole glances at Chiaki, admiring him with  
a frankness that, again, would have seemed scandalous a mere day before.  
  
He was lean, his frame giving hints of more height to follow, and  
lightly muscled; she remembered him carrying her during fights with  
little effort, and helping her to her feet when they had first met. As  
he put on his shirt, she noticed once more the grace of his movements,  
no more than was necessary, simple efficiency turned into feline  
elegance -- or the grace of a thief. His hands continued that  
impression, long-fingered and sensitive, and again, she felt no  
embarrassment at the recollection of the night before.  
  
She had, she realized, fallen in love with one of the most handsome men  
she'd ever seen. And he loved her. Luck wasn't the word for it - this  
was a Godsend. ... literally, in a sense.  
  
Chiaki turned to her, arching an eyebrow quizzically as he ran a hand  
through his hair, not bothering with a comb, and Maron merely smiled and  
held her hand out to him, just as Riru knocked on their door to summon them.  
  
*  
  
Riru, the highest of the Angels, had known what had happened the moment  
she walked in through the door at Maron's welcoming call. After all, it  
had been she who had put Maron and Chiaki in one room together with  
orders that gawking angels of any ranking would be sent to listen to the  
human spirits whose idea of heaven was that they had a captive audience  
for their stories and eternity in which to tell them. She figured that  
the hundredth repetition of 'The One That Got Away' would be punishment  
enough.  
  
It seemed remarkably effective, really. And, well, if putting Chiaki and  
Maron (the former of whom Riru suspected was a far older soul than  
simply the guise he had adopted, that is to say, Sindbad, and far more  
tied to Eve than Jeanne D'Arc) together would cure God of that  
never-ending little bit of a problem where Eve was concerned, well, all  
the better.  
  
Meddling in people's love lives ran all the way up to the top, if you  
asked Riru.  
  
And so, all she did was smile at the lovers as she guided them towards  
where the trial was to take place.  
  
Another set of lovers waited at the doors to the as-yet unknown playing  
field in which the world's fate would be decided, and these were no less  
crucial to the plot that was unfolding. Fin Fish no longer bore the  
physical evidence of her banishment, but there was a subtle  
understanding to her eyes that she had lacked as a naive juntenshi, and  
Riru was glad to see it there -- but she feared the pain that lurked  
beneath it all. Access Time bore no traces of that pain, and she  
wondered if he understood it, or if he refused to acknowledge it. But  
he had done the impossible, and brought Fin Fish back to where she belonged.  
  
And for that, Riru could forgive him the number of forbidden fruit he'd  
eaten when younger.  
  
*  
  
"It's time," Maron murmured, her eyes locked on the doors in front of  
them. And then, with a flurry of rose petals, Jeanne stood where she  
once had. But this wasn't the Jeanne that threw happy smiles to the  
policemen and teased Miyako -- there was only a subtle power, overlaid  
with love as she turned to Chiaki, resting within his arms for a long  
moment.  
  
Heaven within heaven -- that was an inadequate definition for what she  
felt when she was close to him today. All the things she'd missed in her  
life were all mixed up in something that she could nearly taste in its  
utmost sweetness. Safety, concern, love and the desire to protect her  
were only some of the things that she could feel, and it only made her  
stronger.  
  
As she stepped back from him, the door swung open, revealing an empty  
space of black and white marble, and two paintings that, if she were  
asked later, described all of the world's beauty, and all of its pain.  
God and the Devil, in a form that was familiar to her.  
  
And, standing on a black square was her as she had been, the old outfit  
in purple and gold, and a sly smile upon her face. Jeanne D'Arc, under  
the Devil's control.  
  
Maron was unprepared for the onslaught of memories that struck her, from  
the moment in which she first became Jeanne D'Arc with Fin's help to  
when the trust she'd placed in the tiny angel had been betrayed.  
  
Fin was wrapped up in everything, all those memories of loneliness eased  
by her presence, the feeling that someone would always love her no  
matter how keenly alone she felt...  
  
That was the key. She wasn't alone and never had been.  
  
She pulled the ribbon from her hair, feeling the rush of power fade. "To  
tell the truth, I don't want to fight," she said, and with the truth in  
those words, she felt her spirit soar over the objections of those who  
were watching. "I don't need a sword. I believe in peace."  
  
Her double looked startled, the purple eyes holding emotion that Maron  
recognized, for she'd felt it herself so very often. And, as she flung  
her arms around Jeanne, she cried, "Here are the words you always  
wanted! 'You can cry now! You're not alone anymore!'"  
  
Slowly, tentatively, Jeanne wrapped her arms around Maron, then smiled  
at her... and vanished, leaving Maron's first rosary upon the floor. And  
that was the final piece she needed to finish this fight, though she  
didn't want to. Scooping it up, she hurled it at the dark painting.  
"CHECKMATE!"  
  
The howl of pain and outrage that followed the rosary striking the  
painting was deafening, but Maron stood her ground. She wasn't afraid  
anymore. She wasn't alone anymore. And, when she turned away, she failed  
to notice the final blow that was coming until Fin jumped in front of  
her, taking the blow, then fading to juntenshi form, bleeding.  
  
*  
  
She'd known, Fin had, that Maou-sama wouldn't be sealed so easily; she'd  
half-feared, half-anticipated the moment in which he would strike, and  
she could go with him, be sealed away from her pain like her former self  
had.  
  
"I will go with you."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
She didn't find it odd, either, that the Devil would thank someone for  
going with him into the seal. The cries of those she would leave behind,  
though, hurt... but with this action, she could forgive herself forever.  
  
Such was the nature of love -- the desire for another's wellbeing and  
happiness over her own. Fin Fish didn't know, however, that it went both  
ways, and those that were left behind would be in more pain.  
  
Somehow, she'd remained innocent.  
  
... and thus, she died.  
  
No-one said, though, that those who sacrificed themselves would not be  
reborn, but that is another story.  
  
****  
  
For more on that other story, read 'Reflection'.  
  
This started out as another of those late-night fics, mostly to keep  
Chiaki from rambling on in my head about how he'd really really love to  
hold Maron and why couldn't I write it properly, damnit. And it wound up  
being something dealing with the manga ending, albeit an incoherent tale  
of it, and somewhat of a precursor to 'Reflection', which was my first  
KKJ fic. So forgive me if it's a touch incoherent and jerky at times.  
  
  
The title is from a Something Corporate song, and is somewhat of a  
historical pun as well. 


End file.
